The Thirteenth Death
by Sulky Shadow
Summary: Harry was tired of others dying for him. No longer did he want to look around him and see where his companions no longer were. But there was a simple solution to it all. And so he brought about the thirteenth death.


**A/N:** I took information from both the books and the movies for this story.

**Warning:** This story contains spoilers through The Deathly Hallows, but with a twist at the end.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. All characters go to their respectful owners. I only own this story.

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><p><strong>The Thirteenth Death<strong>

James Potter sat on the couch in his living room. Lily had taken their son, Harry, to bed a few minutes ago.

Grumbling about how muggles had no good television shows, James stood and headed for the kitchen for a midnight snack.

He was tired of having to hide with his wife and kid. What did Voldemort want with Harry anyway? Harry was the sweetest kid any parent could ask for. He was nice, brave, and intelligent. And he had dashing good looks if James did say so himself.

After grabbing some of that night's leftovers, James settled back down on the couch. The news lady was talking about the many deaths that were occurring throughout Britain. It was nothing new or surprising, really: Voldemort was overturning every pebble he stumbled across in hopes that Harry Potter would be hiding beneath one of them. But Harry was guarded by much more than a pebble: A mountain protected him.

Little did James know that Voldemort had managed to crack the mountain that encased his son.

The sound of the front door being blasted open immediately gained James' attention. He ran out towards the hallway leading to the door, forgetting his wand on the couch in his haste.

Upon sighting Voldemort standing where the door used to reside, James froze.

That was all the time Voldemort needed to strike.

The last thing James Potter saw was a flash of green. The same color that resided in Lily's eyes…in Harry's.

_One._

Lily heard the crash downstairs and knew their time was up. Voldemort had found Harry.

But if he thought she was just going to hand Harry over, he had another thing coming. Harry was her flesh and blood. He may have gained James' looks, but Harry's mind was all hers, and it showed through the intelligent eyes that reflected hers.

Harry did not cry out when he heard the blast, he merely looked questioningly at his mother. Lily needed not say a word for him to understand that he needed to be quiet. Hoping to put more protection between Harry and his killer, Lily placed her son in his crib and faced the closed door, wand out.

It took Voldemort no more than twenty seconds after crashing in the door to find Harry's room. When he entered, Voldemort paused, looking questioningly at Lily as if expecting her to stand aside and give him access to the boy she was protecting.

When she did not move, Voldemort raised his wand, Killing Curse on his lips.

But Lily was faster. She blasted three unrelenting spells at the man in hopes of forcing him out of the way and allowing Mother and Son to escape.

Voldemort's wand moved faster than Lily could watch. When he was finished, he remained unharmed and poised to strike back.

Green flashed before Lily's eyes. But unlike the intelligence Harry's green eyes showed, this green only showed death.

_Two._

Cedric Diggory stood next to the Triwizard Cup, examining it. A portkey, maybe this was part of the challenge. He didn't remember Dumbledore saying anything about hidden areas, but it wasn't a challenge if you knew what was around every corner.

Harry's frightened voice reminded Cedric of where they were. Deciding to explore, Cedric stood and went to investigate the large cloaked skeleton a few feet away. This place looked like a graveyard, a curious place to be sent to during the Triwizard Tournament. But if they had to fight dragons, this wasn't too strange. What were they supposed to do in a graveyard, fight each other to the death? That didn't make any sense, because there was only supposed to be one champion, not two.

Suddenly, Harry was yelling at him to get back to the Cup. Cedric didn't know what Harry was so riled up about; there were no enemies in sight.

Yelling out in pain, Harry doubled over, pressing his palm against his forehead. Cedric ran over to help, but Harry told him to leave. He couldn't leave Harry, not when he was in pain. Was this a test of mental strength? If so, why was Harry the only one being tested?

A man appeared from behind a gravestone. Maybe, Cedric thought, he was being tested on his courage: Protect Harry while he's defenseless.

Harry yelled again for him to get back to the Cup and return to Hogwarts.

Cedric never got the chance.

Courage wasn't strong enough to protect him from the Killing Curse.

_Three._

Sirius Black stood next to his godson. Harry would be protected from the Death Eaters now that the Order was there.

Together, the two of them faced the enemies and remained undefeated. They made a formidable opponent to all that opposed them.

Someone whispered in Sirius' ear, but when he turned, no one was there, just a veil. Sirius turned to Harry and asked if he had said anything, but his godson's response was negative. After defeating another Death Eater, Sirius heard another whisper in his ear. It almost sounded like someone was calling him. But all that stood where the voice sounded from was the veil under a stone arch. No matter how alluring the voices sounded, the arch retained its ominous presence. Sirius decided to ignore the calls.

But while contemplating the unknown veil, Sirius did not see his cousin sneaking up behind him. Her curse remained unheard over the sound of other battles raging around them. He turned towards the new face just as the spell struck.

Sirius stumbled backwards from the force of being hit with the curse. Unfortunately, the veil was behind him. Harry's screams had no effect over the pull of the arch. The voices became louder the longer he stood under the veil. Finally, he could resist no longer and fell through.

A sheet of darkness fell over Sirius' eyes, and the voices rose to a deafening level before falling silent.

_Four._

Albus Dumbledore couldn't move. All of his strength had been put into the flames that he had used to protect Harry from the Inferi. No Inferi stood before him now, just Draco Malfoy, the poor boy in charge of an impossible task: Killing the Headmaster. Albus took pity on the young soul forced to do what Tom Riddle had done so eagerly at his age.

Desperately, Dumbledore tried to talk the student out of killing him. Albus knew Draco wouldn't willingly kill, but the young boy told the Headmaster how his family had been threatened and would be killed if he did not complete his task. Dumbledore attempted to suggest assisting Draco in hiding his family from the Dark Lord, and had almost succeeded, when the Death Eaters came to supply backup.

Luckily, Severus was one of those 'helpers.' The old Potions master towered over Dumbledore's sinking form. His eyes showed no emotion, something he had mastered quickly after becoming a Death Eater.

But that didn't fool Albus; he knew that Severus would follow through with the plan. Even after she had died, Snape had continued to love Lily Potter, and he would help fight the Dark Lord as long as it took to avenge her death.

Maybe if Harry knew the truth about his teacher, he would finally understand the power of love. It changed people, made them make choices that wouldn't have been considered if their beloved wasn't there. And unlike other emotions, it did not diminish with time. Albus Dumbledore knew that better than anyone. He still loved his beloved sister, even if she had passed away long ago.

Severus lifted his wand and muttered the curse that would complete his final promise with the Headmaster.

As Dumbledore fell from the Astronomy Tower, he understood why Severus had fallen in love with Lily Potter: Green was such a beautiful color.

_Five._

Hedwig sat in her cage. She didn't understand what was happening around her, except for the fact that she knew her master was in danger.

Lights were flying through the air like flaming mice. But unlike mice, if Hedwig swallowed one of these, she would surely die.

Her master sat next to her in a box. She didn't understand how they were flying without him flapping.

A light hit the side of their box and almost made her fall out. Her master cried out and gripped her cage, telling her it would be all right. Hedwig felt his fear and was not reassured.

More lights flew from the twig her master held in his hands. A red one shot out from it and suddenly, more lights were whizzing above Hedwig. One of them hit her cage, and Hedwig was sent tumbling into the night.

Luckily, another light hit the latch and opened the door to her cage. Hedwig flew out into the night and swooped around, avoiding the burning death.

_Evil. Master. Protect. Death._

Suddenly, she saw her master falling through the air, his tail ablaze. Hedwig soared after them, diving here and there to avoid being struck by the stray lights.

One of the stray lights was headed right towards the dark-haired boy, and he wasn't looking.

Hedwig screeched and opened her beak wide, swallowing the spell intended to kill her master.

As she fell from the night sky filled with flames, Hedwig's only thought was, _Master. Safe._

_Six._

That blasted Mundungus Fletcher; he'd gone and blown the whole operation disapparating like that.

But Alastor Moody was not afraid; he was never afraid. Even looking into the Dark Lord's black, bottomless pits he called eyes, Moody felt nothing but the desire to strike the man in the face with a jinx. But it was Harry's destiny to battle Voldemort, and therefore, Moody could do nothing but glare at the man he hoped would someday be brought down.

He and Harry were a lot alike, Moody realized. Both were very good with dark magic—but one protected against it while the other used it. Both were orphaned during their childhood—both of which Voldemort had been the cause of. Both could speak to snakes, and both had managed to involve themselves with the Chamber of Secrets while attending Hogwarts because of that.

But while they were similar, there were also several differences between them: The Dark Lord would send anyone but himself into a battle—unless it benefited him in some way. While Harry sacrificed himself time and time again for his friends—something Voldemort lacked. And, according to Dumbledore, Harry also had love, which also according to Dumbledore, would make the biggest difference, in the end.

But luckily, Harry was not so similar to Voldemort that he agreed with what the older man was doing. If he had, Moody would have died long ago. Most likely by being suffocated with his own internal organs being shoved down his throat instead of being given the easy way out—the Killing Curse.

It was ironic that a color symbolizing peace, also symbolized greed and death, just as snakes symbolized both deceitfulness and guardianship.

_Seven._

Dobby would save Harry Potter. Finally, after being free for five years—thanks to the Boy Who Lived—Dobby would be able to repay the favor. He would rescue Harry Potter from his old masters, just as Harry had done for him.

He had known the risks entering the Malfoy's house again, but it had not deterred the former house-elf. Nothing would stop Dobby from saving his hero, his only true friend.

But Dobby must admit, he had expected to be taken down by spell, not blade.

When they arrived at their destination, Dobby was aware of an immense pain in his chest. As he looked down, he realized why his hands felt wet when he gripped at his heart: He'd been stabbed through the chest by Bellatrix's knife. But better him than Harry Potter.

Dobby had repaid his debt; he had saved Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. If he had to pay it with his life, so be it. No one's life was worth more than Harry Potter's. Dobby had heard stories about the boy's feats and what he had accomplished. Harry Potter had killed a Basilisk, defeated hundreds of dementors, won the Triwizard Tournament, and fought countless Death Eaters. But most importantly, Harry Potter had freed Dobby from being enslaved and tortured as a house elf. If a teenage boy could do all that, there was no telling what he would do later in his life.

Before he died, with his dying breath, he tried to explain to Harry everything he felt: Pride, sorrow, acceptance, and peace. But most of all, he wanted Harry Potter to know that Dobby was happy to die in his friend's arms, as a free elf.

_Eight._

Fred Weasley stood with his back to his brother, Percy, in a more-than-slightly destroyed hallway in Hogwarts. Death Eaters had them surrounded, but Fred was notorious for his flashy spell casting so he knew if he suddenly needed to escape, he could easily create a distraction.

Percy, on the other hand…well, he certainly knew some charms Fred had never heard of—no doubt he picked them up from working at the Ministry of Magic. Not that Fred was complaining. Hopefully the Death Eaters wouldn't know any counter-spells to protect themselves from being blasted through the crumbling walls.

Overall, Fred wasn't frightened for his wellbeing. No, he was more concerned about Harry's safety: It wasn't exactly a secret that the Boy Who Lived would jump in front of a friend in need without the slightest hesitation.

If Harry sacrificed himself before Voldemort was defeated, Fred was going to drag him back from the dead and kill him—after he had destroyed Voldemort, that is.

Everything was going well until Percy opened his mouth to say that he was resigning. If he had been fighting a Death Eater when the announcement was made, Fred would have surely been stuck down because of his shock.

When Fred turned to face his brother, he was too busy taunting Percy to notice the elder man's eyes widen at something behind him.

Only when Percy whispered his brother's name did Fred realize something was wrong.

Fred turned just in time to see an explosion occur not three meters from where he stood.

The last thing he heard was a bang that sounded similar to the fireworks he and George had set off during their Seventh year.

_Nine._

A group of Death Eaters stood by the Forbidden Forest. Remus Lupin stood apposing them along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Aberforth Dumbledore.

Lupin could feel the tension in the air. The battle would start shortly. He hoped Harry was ready to defend the castle against the rest of the Death Eaters. Once enough were defeated here, Remus would rejoin the castle's defenses. He just hoped it wouldn't take too long to return.

But with the Order behind him, Lupin knew he wouldn't have to worry about watching his back too much. Remus knew that the enemies they fought here weren't nearly as threatening as the ones being sent to fight in Hogwarts. That didn't mean that these Death Eaters would be easy to kill, though.

Remus felt comforted knowing his wife, Tonks, was safe with her parents. He didn't think he would be able to bear the thought of her or Teddy being hurt.

The tension reached its breaking point and the charms and jinxes flew, lighting up the surrounding trees and grass.

Lupin singled out Lucius Malfoy and began his attack. But something seemed off: Lucius had no shadow of satisfaction written on his face, and his casts were slow and hesitant, like he almost didn't want to fight.

But that was ridiculous, Lupin told himself, Lucius was a Death Eater, he loved fighting almost as much as Voldemort loved tormenting Harry.

The hesitations were something to be taken advantage of, though, and it made the battle much easier. But Lucius, however strange his behavior, still refused to be beaten, and he and Lupin spent several minutes dueling each other.

Dolohov must have seen his comrade struggling to finish the battle, and decided to intervene. Because as soon as Lucius looked like he was about to surrender and apparate away, a jinx flew from Dolohov's wand, past Lucius' wavering arm, and hit Remus squarely in the chest.

Lupin had forgotten that just when things were looking up for him, his hopes were always shot back down again.

Only this time, his only hope was him surviving the war.

_Ten._

Nymphadora Tonks ran through the crumbling walls of Hogwarts. All she wanted was to find Remus. Her son was safe with her parents, but her husband was at war with Voldemort, and everyone knew what the chances of coming away from a swarm of Death Eaters alive were.

Tonks ran even faster, taking down every Death Eater in her way.

After searching through as much off the castle as she could with all the rubble, Tonks decided to move to the grounds and look for her husband.

Oh, Tonks hoped he was okay. Finally, after years of secretly loving him, Tonks had worked up the guts to tell him how she felt. But it had taken another two for him to finally return the feelings. It was hard to believe they had a son now.

Tonks' spell casting became more violent and angry. She didn't work this hard to be happy only for it to be destroyed.

After searching the grounds, Tonks was about to hurry back inside and look for her husband again, when she noticed a figure lying on the ground. She'd almost missed him with his body lying in the shadow of the Forbidden Forest like that.

She approached the body slowly. It had to be a coincidence that this body looked like her husband's. It just had to be a coincidence.

Tonks turned the body over.

No…

It was Remus. Remus was dead. The husband she had loved for so long, fought so hard for, was dead. Dead.

Tonks screamed out into the chilling night, but no one heard the distraught cry. No one…but Bellatrix, who had been following the witch after seeing her take out Death Eater after Death Eater, without any trouble or struggle.

Tonks was too distraught to notice Bellatrix walking up behind her.

Her cries were too loud for her to hear the spell being cast.

_Eleven._

Lily Evans. No, Lily Potter.

That was all Severus Snape could think about while he lay on the floor, drowning in his own blood.

He'd lived his life trying to make amends for her death. A death he could have prevented. If only he had tried harder to persuade the Dark Lord. Lily would still be alive and happy, even if she weren't happy being with him.

Oh, how he hated James Potter for stealing Lily away. James must have known how Snape felt about her, and stolen her heart out of spite.

It was a pity he couldn't steal her back.

As much as he had wanted to avenge her death, Snape had always thought he would be assigned with something a little more…rewarding.

Harry _James_ Potter was everything his father was: Arrogant, self-centered, and a hater of Slytherins. Lily hadn't hated Slytherin, even though she, herself, had been a Gryffindor: Slytherin's rival House.

But Potter has assumed that just because the Dark Lord had been in Slytherin, everyone else was bad when they were placed in the same House. Not that Severus wanted Potter to like him. It went both ways: Slytherins hated Gryffindors. It was how Hogwarts worked and had always worked.

But just because Snape didn't want Potter to like him, didn't mean that he didn't want the boy to respect his teacher.

How many times had he told Dumbledore that Potter was a conceited fool, set on ruining the lives of those he disliked?

Obviously, the Headmaster saw differently, because he told the teacher how much of Lily he saw in her son. Those words had stung. How dare he disgrace Lily by comparing her to the monstrosity?

And to add insult to injury, Dumbledore claimed Severus only saw what he wanted to see.

How could he say that? Snape wanted to see that Lily's child was all her. But instead he saw James radiating out of him. Except for his eyes, but they just taunted Severus of his failure by being the color of the spell that had killed his mother. Lily's eyes had shown love. Potter's showed death.

And why shouldn't they? Potter was the reason why Lily was dead in the first place.

Potter had never had any love in his eyes. Every time Snape looked at the student's face, he saw hatred and loathing. Typical James. Typical Potter.

So it was truly a surprise when Potter and his friends showed up to help. Or maybe Potter had convinced them to come taunt their old Potions teacher until his final breath.

Severus didn't want to help the boy he hated so much, but he knew he was doing it for Lily. He would help Potter for Lily.

So he conjured up all of his memories of her and his promise, and handed them to Potter in the form of a wispy thread. Maybe now, the Dark Lord would finally be defeated, and Lily's death avenged.

Looking at Potter now, Snape saw the compassion he had seen in Lily's eyes, staring sadly down at him.

Maybe Harry wasn't such a bad kid, after all.

_Twelve._

Death.

That's all that surrounded Harry as he strode out to the Forbidden Forest.

His friends were dying for him. Guilt sat like a ton of bricks on his chest. No one should be dying but him. It was his fault all of these people had died fighting. If he had just died as a baby, or in the Chamber, or in the graveyard, all of the bodies Harry was walking past wouldn't have been there. It was rather ironic that dying could save so many.

Harry continued out to the grounds and ran into Neville Longbottom. No one could know of his plan. Neville would stop him if he knew, and Harry didn't want that. So he made up an excuse as to why he was leaving the castle while there was an intermission in the battle. But Harry also told Neville, Nagini, Voldemort's snake, had to be killed.

Of course Neville guessed Harry's plan, but he brushed it off with a smile and lied again. No one could know about the plan but him. No one.

And so Harry set off again towards the forest, where he knew everything would end. He hoped that after he had completed his mission, the fighting would stop. But Harry knew there would be some rebels that wouldn't want to face the truth, and would keep fighting. The majority, he hoped, would see reason and the losing side would submit. He only hoped. There were no guarantees in war except for death. And that was something Harry had had quite enough of.

He didn't know what he was expecting it to feel like, fighting battle after battle against Death Eaters. But what he wasn't expecting was the guilt.

Not the guilt of killing, Harry was fine with that. What he wasn't okay with were his friends deaths. Voldemort wasn't after them; he was after Harry. Why did he continue to allow others to be his shield in battle?

So many were dead inside Hogwarts' walls, and every one of them was his fault.

How was he supposed to live with that liability sitting on his shoulders? How could anyone handle it? It was unbearable, and Harry Potter had lived with it for all his life. He was surprised his mind had managed to withstand the pressure this long.

The forest was dark and cold, and it reflected Harry's mood perfectly. He put his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, and felt the Snitch. Harry's hand flinched away from the cool metal. He knew what lay inside it, and had no desire to be reminded of why he was walking into the Forbidden Forest instead of helping others regroup for Round Two in the castle.

Surprisingly, there were no Death Eaters lurking about. Harry had expected swarms to be out and about, looking for him. But even as he drew closer to his destination, Harry met no other being, enemy or foe.

Finally, Harry saw it: A fire burning in a clearing just a few yards ahead. That was his destination. That was where Voldemort was. It was in that very clearing that all of Harry's problems would be solved.

As he drew closer, Harry saw Voldemort sitting closest to the flames, while the Death Eaters had formed a semi-circle around him. Everyone's eyes were on the Dark Lord, including Harry's. There was no sound except for the crackling of the fire.

And the silence remained when Harry stepped out from the shadows. Although all the eyes moved from Voldemort to Harry, the tension in the clearing was only strengthened, and it seemed like everyone was afraid that with any noise, it would snap.

Voldemort did not look surprised to see the boy across from him; both of them knew why Harry was there. They both knew because they were the only two people in the world that understood each other as well as they did.

Harry did not flinch when Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at the person he had been hunting for the last seventeen years.

Neither of them said a thing when Harry raised his wand in response. It was a reflex he had picked up quickly after several duels.

A mouth moved. A wand flicked. And a spell was cast.

Harry closed his eyes against the green flash. A flash he was all too familiar with.

The world fell away. And Harry didn't have to feel guilty, anymore.

_Thirteen._

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